


Coming Home

by emynn



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynn/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Justin's first trip back to Pittsburgh. Some things have changed. Others...not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, Brian/Justin + "don't make it into a big deal."

The loft was far too quiet. 

Justin set down his bags and shrugged off his jacket. After convincing Jackie to cover his morning shift at the store, he’d hightailed it to JFK and managed to grab an earlier flight to Pittsburgh. He hadn’t cared then that it meant Brian would still be at the office when he landed; he was just so _desperate_ to be back in Pittsburgh, in the loft, to be back with all his old friends and enjoy the comforts of home, and, of course, to know that Brian was in the same city as him, that he just _had_ to get there as soon as possible. Each and every second he could spend back here was precious, and wanted to be sure to have as many of them as possible before he had to head back to New York.

Except now that he was here, he wondered if he had made a mistake.

The loft itself was pretty much the same. Brian hadn’t made any significant changes to the decor since Justin had left three months ago. There was a new lamp in the kitchen, and a brighter rug in the living room, but it appeared Brian hadn’t turned to exorbitant shopping sprees to cope with Justin’s absence.

At least, not for furniture.

But still, it all felt slightly off-kilter. There was something about being in this loft again that made Justin feel not like he was back in his old home, but in some strange kind of echo of it. Justin made his way around the room, quietly, cautiously, feeling rather like a recalcitrant schoolboy who had wandered off from the group during a tour of the museum, peering over his shoulder as he waited for someone to shout at him for being where he didn’t belong.

He shuddered. It was ridiculous. He was hardly an intruder. Brian had made it clear he was welcome here whenever he wanted, and he’d certainly been at the loft by himself countless times. There was no reason to feel so unsteady in the very place he had fallen for the love of his life so many years ago.

And then it hit him.

The photographs.

Brian had never been one for keeping many around the loft. “What do I need pictures for?” he’d once said when Justin had asked, “I see you all every day. It’s not like I’m in danger of forgetting what you look like.”

And yet there was a photo of Gus playing with his trains perched on the table next to the couch, one of Mel and Lindsay at the Diner held up with a colorful magnet with the name of Gus’ school on the refrigerator, one of Brian with Lindsay that must have been taken back when they were in college they looked so young in a frame near the entrance.

And photos of Justin.

Justin by himself, Justin with Brian, Justin with Michael and Emmett and Ted and Gus and Melanie and Lindsay and Gus and JR and Debbie and any combination thereof. Hanging on the walls, in frames upon flat surfaces, stuck to the refrigerator, in black and white and in brilliant color, large and small and everywhere in between.

It wasn’t as though the loft was cluttered, of course. Not even close; Brian _did_ prefer a generally minimalist aesthetic, after all. But to go from just a couple of photographs to dozens… it was difficult not to notice the change.

On some level, Justin recognized he should feel flattered. Brian clearly missed him. But all Justin could think of was the real reason why those photos were there.

Because he wasn’t.

And if he wasn’t there… was this even still his home? Once he basked in the comfort of feeling this place was his as much as it was Brian’s, that it was the place they shared, where they loved and laughed and lived together, but now it seemed as though his relationship to the loft was defined by his absence.

Justin shook his head. He was overreacting. Why should he be upset that Brian clearly wanted to see reminders of him all around the loft? But he just couldn’t shake this fear that perhaps things _had_ changed too much between them, that perhaps the distance _had_ been too much. What if Brian arrived and it turned out that the discomfort Justin felt wasn’t just because of the loft, but because _they_ no longer fit together?

What if he was now just a visitor in the only place he had ever truly known love?

What if this was no longer where he belonged?

“Hey.”

Justin whirled around. Brian stood there in the doorway, looking gorgeous as hell in his suit, his eyes locked on Justin.

And in his arms was a bouquet of flowers.

“You got me flowers?” Justin asked, his voice cracking on the last word. And seriously, _that_ was what he was focusing on now? Christ, could he be any more pathetic?

Brian shrugged slightly. “Don’t make it into a big deal,” he said. His smile was soft, almost bashful. Gone was the Brian Kinney who sauntered into the club, grabbed the hottest stud by his cock, and led him to the back room. In his place was just _Brian_ , looking remarkably like a nervous schoolboy asking his crush to prom, standing in front of Justin with a bouquet of blossoms the same colors as a sunrise in his arms and clear love in his eyes.

Justin blinked, slowly, soaking the moment in.

And then he launched himself into Brian’s arms.

“You’re crushing the flowers,” Brian said a long, breathless moment after.

“They’ll live,” Justin said, but he took them out of Brian’s hands and set them down on the kitchen counter. Then, with a huge smile, he turned back to Brian and burrowed himself into his embrace.

This… _this_ is what he had been waiting for. To feel Brian’s arms around him, to feel his fingers twining through his hair, to feel his breath against his ear and his heart pounding against his chest, to feel all of this around him and know that he was loved and safe and wanted by the most incredible man he’d ever known… Justin could feel the loft coming to life around him, blooming as brightly as those flowers, welcoming him back.

“Have you made yourself back at home?” Brian asked, running his thumb along Justin’s jaw.

Justin clasped Brian’s hand and pulled him back into a soft, tender kiss. “It feels like I never left.”


End file.
